I Am Not The Hero
by aka CZ
Summary: Every person has their role to fill. Each chapter is dedicated to a different character's view, but every single one is questioning or answering the same thing: Who, among them all, is the real hero in this turmoil and chaos of Britannia versus Japan


ZERO

Alone in his room on the Ikaruga, Zero; leader of the largest and most invincible rebellion in world history, chess grandmaster, the inspiration of entire generation; wondered where his life had gone so horribly wrong.

His childhood friend, closer than a brother could ever have been, was his greatest enemy on this earth. His sister, for whom he had moved the stars, believed he, Zero, was the greatest obstacle to the very same world he was trying to build. His confidante, the first to know who he really was and forgive him anyway… Her life had ended. It felt like it had ended a very long time ago. His sister, his beloved sister, she had also… Also passed away.

Zero turned away from the window and closed the blinds with a flick of his fingers. The windows around the entire room followed suit, and he took a seat at his desk in the dimmed light, hands folded in front of him.

Sometimes he wistfully despaired for one of his black knights to figure out the great secret. How he would long, during those times, for someone to catch just a glimpse of him unmasked – just a whisper of one of his faithful calling him by his proper name – and tell the whole damned, ruthless, worthless world who their icon of Britannian liberation was.

And kill him.

Because sometimes the heir prince wished it could all be over.

Legends are immortal, though, and once he had built his pedestal he was going to have to stand on it, immovable, until his last breath was gone.

"That's the difference between them and me," Zero murmured, clenching his fingers tighter together as he rested his head on their support. "Those worthless kings sit on their throne all day long at leisure, while I am always standing at the head of the people I expect to fight for me… how can they call themselves kings who won't lead… They have never known what it is to be truly tired."

His head was pounding as his thoughts strayed to all that still lay in their way that would have to be brought down and built up: Bloodshed with no peace in sight. More lives may be lost than alive when they finally succeeded in overthrowing Britannian rule. Prejudice, on both sides, needed to be eliminated, and grudges eradicated. And who had stirred all those lives? Who was the one who had up the nation into this upheaval, who—

"Sir, permission to enter."

Zero breathed out slowly, the tension in his face relaxing back into his stoic, determined demeanor. The kind a leader had.

"Come in, Q-1."

He was smiling lightly when the door whooshed open, and was still looking amused when Kallen collapsed sprawled on the couch while the door slid back shut and the auto-lock clicked.

"I can't tell if we're the most exhilarated or most exhausted army ever," Kallen remarked off-handedly. She breathing a little heavy, but he would have been surprised if she hadn't – it was getting on towards summer, and heat that was comfortable in ordinary clothes was a bit stifling in full uniform. She turned to him like she knew he had been staring at her while he thought. He grinned widely.

"You can take that mask off, you know, I know it's got be hot as hell in that thing."

Chuckling drolly, he followed her suggestion. It was a bit of a relief to feel the hot air trapped with him suddenly disperse, and the rush of cool, mechanically regulated air was as welcome as any outside breeze. He brushed damp strands of hair out of his eyes, and then set the heavy mask carefully on the desk in front of him.

Kallen shook her head slightly and folded her arms over her chest. She adjusted how she was sitting so it was easier to look at his half-hidden face over the back of the couch.

"Too good to sit with us lowly knights, great Zero?" she goaded him. Her tone was flat, and the one-sided smirk on her face didn't lit up her eyes with wicked glee at berating her superior like it usually did.

He merely smiled enigmatically.

"How goes things for my ace?" he queried. Kallen sighed, glancing at the door before answering him.

"We're being beaten up out there, Lelouch. I mean, yeah, we're winning, but it's still a battle field. I never knew one person could have as many bruises as I have right now, and I had more last week! But," she shifted, her mouth grim as she stared at him, "Don't worry about it. As long as Tamaki and the rest of those knuckleheads follow my orders – your orders," she corrected, or amended, Zero wasn't sure which, "We'll be fine. They trust us. And despite the fact you have the least reliable attendance record of anyone ever born, I trust you to keep doing what you're doing."

They both looked towards the closed doors as calls rang out. The rest of the officers were calling for Kallen, something about Tamaki's Knightmare controls being on the fritz again and would she come fix it this one more time.

"Well, duty calls," Kallen muttered as she got up. "And I'd just started to relax."

Zero smirked at her grumbling. Silently he replaced the mask on his head, watching Kallen's back as she crossed to the door…

"Wait."

Kallen stopped, motionless as a sculpture, not sure whether he was expecting her to turn around or not. Zero's voice was unusually quiet. He strode around the desk and up behind her. Something clicked in the silence.

"Kallen." This time he made it an unmistakable command.

"Sir…?"

A slight dilation of the pupils. A catch in her throat. A twitch of an eyebrow. A certain defensiveness.

"You did a fine job out there today. Keep it up."

Although she didn't say anything, he could tell the praise was well-received as her reflexes lowered and she walked out the door, shouting for Tamaki to get his ass ready for a beating for being rough on the controls again even after she had warned him what would happen if she had to spend another unnecessary hour as his mechanic.

The panel slid shut in Zero's mask as he turned away from the door. He walked slowly across the room, taking his time and paying attention to every detail, contrasting it with what he had observed while Kallen was there.

An unhealthy flush that didn't calm down. The fabric of his gloves was so smooth and fine, it felt like liquid slipping against his skin. Her face had been scraped and swollen, jostled lose form her seat and into the dash most likely. Between the mask and the drawn blinds he felt like he was looking at the world right now in the middle of the night, completely abandoned with no one around. She was fatigued. She was worse than that, she was completely drained; none of them had slept more than an hour or two a day for the last few weeks. He had never appreciated the intensity of colour, how the gilded threads of his cloak stood out glimmering against the deep wash of royal violet silk.

"She was afraid," he mused behind his desk. One hand gently touched the invisible cracks in the mask where the secret panel was locked in place. He wondered how much it tore her apart, to be afraid for her life, having seen who he was, realized what he'd done to her… and yet to be completely in awe of the same man.

He was the leader. The king, if you will, on their game board. The others, they were there to serve him. He was the figurehead – the strategist – the icon – the saviour – the mastermind – but.

Zero stared at the door Kallen had left through. His gaze averted itself to the covered window beside him, staring where he knew Ashford was. A flick of his eyes, and he lingered staring where, with open blinds, he would have seen Britannia's palace, where the knights of the round stayed. Another look at the door, and an aching pulled at his heart.

"But I… I am not the hero," Zero whispered to the lonely room.


End file.
